taken with him on his inspection was a reward
that I eagerly sought. The din of the looms frightened me a little,
but I loved the odour of the oily wool in the sorting room, the
long twisted skeins turning in the vats of dye, the amazing silence
in the drawing sheds, and the great steam engine with its brightly
polished nickel work whose connecting rods my father would touch
with a friendly hand as a trainer pats a favourite beast.
`Anything new?' he would ask the engine-driver.
`Not a thing, Monsieur Ernest . . .'
When I was six years old it was decided that I should take `courses'
in preparation for the Lycee. I should have preferred to continue
working with Martian, but she arranged with an elderly spinster
from Alsace, Mademoiselle Paulus, for her to give instruction to
me and three other boys, including my cousin, Andre Blin, and Christian
Roerich, son of the pastor. She also let me begin piano lessons,
at first with Madame Retling, an aged woman whose face was ornamented
with long hairs which fascinated me, later with Monsieur Dupre,
organist at the immaculate Conception and father of the great organist
Marcel Dupre. Monsieur Dupre was an excellent musician; he recognized
very soon that I was not gifted.
`You understand music,' he said to me, `but you haven't the hands
for it.'
Usually he spent the lesson period playing Chopin, Schumann, and
Bach for me. If he did not make a pianist of me he did teach me
to love good music, for which I am grateful to him. Each year when
the pupils' recital was held, I had to take part in order to reassure
my parents. I always played a certain `Oriental Serenade' for four
hands with Monsieur Dupre himself:
`Don't worry about anything,' he would tell me, just simply go:
la, and then at the octave: la, la, la, and I'll elaborate it.'
He elaborated so ingeniously that I used to be complimented afterward.
My parents also let me begin English and German. My first German
instructor was Bertha Bussmann, a bulky and virtuous Catholic spinster.
She had been governess to a young lady in Elbeuf, the 'Kleine Elisabeth',
and had ended by staying on in town, where she was respected for
her great piety. Fraulein Bertha talked to me constantly about
one of her nephews, Heinrich Bruning, whose intelligence and abilities
she used to

travel books:
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where is TITLE taken with him on his inspection was a reward that I eagerly sought. what is din of what is looms frightened me a little, but I loved what is odour of what is oily wool in what is sorting room, what is long twisted skeins turning in what is vats of dye, what is amazing silence in what is drawing sheds, and what is great steam engine with its brightly polished nickel work whose connecting rods my father would touch with a friendly hand as a trainer pats a favourite beast. `Anything new?' he would ask what is engine-driver. `Not a thing, Monsieur Ernest . . .' When I was six years old it was decided that I should take `courses' in preparation for what is Lycee. I should have preferred to continue working with Martian, but she arranged with an elderly spinster from Alsace, Mademoiselle Paulus, for her to give instruction to me and three other boys, including my cousin, Andre Blin, and Christian Roerich, son of what is pastor. She also let me begin piano lessons, at first with Madame Retling, an aged woman whose face was ornamented with long hairs which fascinated me, later with Monsieur Dupre, organist at what is immaculate Conception and father of what is great organist Marcel Dupre. Monsieur Dupre was an excellent musician; he recognized very soon that I was not gifted. `You understand music,' he said to me, `but you haven't what is hands for it.' Usually he spent what is lesson period playing Chopin, Schumann, and Bach for me. If he did not make a pianist of me he did teach me to what time is it good music, for which I am grateful to him. Each year when what is pupils' recital was held, I had to take part in order to reassure my parents. I always played a certain `Oriental Serenade' for four hands with Monsieur Dupre himself: `Don't worry about anything,' he would tell me, just simply go: la, and then at what is octave: la, la, la, and I'll elaborate it.' He elaborated so ingeniously that I used to be complimented afterward. My parents also let me begin English and German. My first German instructor was Bertha Bussmann, a bulky and virtuous Catholic spinster. She had been governess to a young lady in Elbeuf, what is 'Kleine Elisabeth', and had ended by staying on in town, where she was respected for her great piety. Fraulein Bertha talked to me constantly about one of her nephews, Heinrich Bruning, whose intelligence and abilities she used to
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Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Call No Man Happy (1943)
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where is p align="left" Page 022
where is p align="center" where is strong what is TREE OF KNOWLEDGE
where is p align="justify" taken with him on his inspection was a reward
that I eagerly sought. what is din of what is looms frightened me a little,
but I loved what is odour of what is oily wool in what is sorting room, the
long twisted skeins turning in what is vats of dye, what is amazing silence
in what is drawing sheds, and what is great steam engine with its brightly
polished nickel work whose connecting rods my father would touch
with a friendly hand as a trainer pats a favourite beast.
`Anything new?' he would ask what is engine-driver.
`Not a thing, Monsieur Ernest . . .'
When I was six years old it was decided that I should take `courses'
in preparation for what is Lycee. I should have preferred to continue
working with Martian, but she arranged with an elderly spinster
from Alsace, Mademoiselle Paulus, for her to give instruction to
me and three other boys, including my cousin, Andre Blin, and Christian
Roerich, son of what is pastor. She also let me begin piano lessons,
at first with Madame Retling, an aged woman whose face was ornamented
with long hairs which fascinated me, later with Monsieur Dupre,
organist at what is immaculate Conception and father of what is great organist
Marcel Dupre. Monsieur Dupre was an excellent musician; he recognized
very soon that I was not gifted.
`You understand music,' he said to me, `but you haven't what is hands
for it.'
Usually he spent what is lesson period playing Chopin, Schumann, and
Bach for me. If he did not make a pianist of me he did teach me
to what time is it good music, for which I am grateful to him. Each year when
what is pupils' recital was held, I had to take part in order to reassure
my parents. I always played a certain `Oriental Serenade' for four
hands with Monsieur Dupre himself:
`Don't worry about anything,' he would tell me, just simply go:
la, and then at what is octave: la, la, la, and I'll elaborate it.'
He elaborated so ingeniously that I used to be complimented afterward.
My parents also let me begin English and German. My first German
instructor was Bertha Bussmann, a bulky and virtuous Catholic spinster.
She had been governess to a young lady in Elbeuf, what is 'Kleine Elisabeth',
and had ended by staying on in town, where she was respected for
her great piety. Fraulein Bertha talked to me constantly about
one of her nephews, Heinrich Bruning, whose intelligence and abilities
she used to
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